


Rehearsed Steps

by Ashii Black (ashiiblack)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Imagination, M/M, POV First Person, Parties, Pining, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:42:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashiiblack/pseuds/Ashii%20Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s true; I crave you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rehearsed Steps

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the very wonderful M for the last minute beta, even though you don’t read slash. I intended for this to be a bit longer, but this fic seemed to want to end on a short note. Many thanks to Flight Facilities and Adventure Club for helping inspire this fic.

I only have eyes for you.

I'm not sure when it started. It could have been one of the several times you saved me in our last years at Hogwarts, or it could have been when you tried to kill me in the bathroom. I look back at that day and think of the horror on your face. All I could think about was how beautiful you were. That would have been my last thought had Snape not saved my life.

**

We kiss slowly in the back room at the Ministry. Your hands move up and down my skin, causing a shot of electricity to move into my veins. Everything feels horrible and wonderful at exactly the same time. I didn't think that fucking a married man would cause me so much grief, but guilt is coursing through me.

And then I look at you, this perfect specimen of a man, and I couldn't give a toss about what society, what your family would do to you if they could out you were fucking a Malfoy on the side.

You press me even harder into the wall; so hard that it hurts. I growl. You may be acting dominant now, but in just a few moments, my cock will be up your arse and you will be begging for more.

**

After the war, you stopped paying attention to me. You never glance my way. I don't know what happened, as even now, I do nothing but fight for your attention. I have suitors, heiresses, even royalty, who want me. ME. And I can't say yes because of you. You, Harry Potter, the fucking Savior of the Wizarding World has me around his pinky and he doesn't even know it.

I doubt you've noticed, but I sometimes clean your desk after you leave work. Even though I try not to, I sometimes read your mail. It's usually Auror related, as it _is_ your office after all. The most important part is that I know you are going to the Ministry Yule Ball. That seems as good a time as any to capture your attention.

**

"Malfoy, turn around," you murmur in my ear, your breath hot on my face.

My prick twitches. There is something incredibly sexy about that warm air hitting another person. It means that something deep inside of one person is encompassing, entering another. It means that someone is physically close enough to another to share the same breath.

Somehow, our dress robes have come off. They lie on the ground, completely forgotten. Your kisses are more demanding and forceful. I've convinced you that yes, I deserve to be the recipient of your lips, your body.

"No," I breathe. "I've waited for too long."

I dig my nails into your back. I am marking you; I want to show the world where I've been. Even if you heal the wounds before we dress again, I want my mark on you for just this short while, just to prove that I've had you.

As my hands travel lower, they pull to the front of you and I undo your belt. "Fuck," you groan as I slide my fingers around your cock.

"Yes, fuck," I say quickly, leaning forward and biting down on your collar bone.

**

They say that gold washes out a complexion as fair as mine, but I disagree.

For the Yule Ball, I choose a set of black dress robes that are accented in real gold. I wear a white and gold button up shirt underneath it. My hair is parted to the side, with one eye nearly completely covered with my hair. I typically wear my hair completely straight back, but not tonight. If I want to make an impression, I need to look different. Maybe then you'll see me.

From the moment I walk in, I can only look at you. You stand there, sipping champagne with _her_ leaning on your arm. Surely, it's just a ruse. You can't be _that_ in love with someone. You just can't. It doesn't make sense.

I intentionally walk across the room, the back of my robe swooping behind me. Maybe the movement will catch your eye and you'll see that what you have been craving all along is me.

**

You let out a long moan as I enter you. Your hands clench against the wall, desperate to alleviate that bit of pain that comes with being fucked in the arse. I can't believe that I am finally doing this. I've dreamed of this for years. _Years_.  
 __  
We move together in synchronicity that would normally take ages to develop. Perhaps it was the years of sniping at each other. It was always a dance of wits, each of us giving and taking. Now, we are simply using our cocks instead of our words – or even our wands.

“Fuck,” you moan, and ghost your hands over mine, pumping up and down your cock with force.

I throw my head back in ecstasy as everything I’ve ever wanted comes to fruition.

**

I keep my feelings to myself, but my friends know I want someone I can never have. They tell me that I have other options, that I should try dating.

Dating. How can I possibly date when you are always in the back of my mind? I’ve fucked men with your hair. I’ve imagined what it would be like to completely surrender myself to you. I could never date with your green eyes appearing every time I close my eyes.

You pass a glass of water to her and make a toast. Your eyes still have not left her freckled body. I look down and see a bump forming in her lower torso. She is pregnant.

Tears sting at my eyes. I clench my jaw and turn my head as I ball each of my hands into a fist.

I look foolish, standing here alone, wearing these stupid ornate dress robes. How could I have let myself get this carried away?

My feet carry me to the outside hallway. I break open a door from Human Resources, and lean against the window as I try to catch my breath.

**

Your come ribbons in front of us, and I reach out to catch it. I bring my hand to my lips and lick my fingers. You taste exactly as I imagined. You turn around and kiss me. I thrust harder inside of you, the taste of your come and saliva arousing me even more.

It doesn’t take long before I cry out and empty myself deep inside of you. I admire the scratch marks on your back, kissing each red laceration, wanting to savor this moment for all it is worth.

“I love you, Potter.”

I finally said it. The words hang in the air in awkward silence. I open my eyes.

You’re not there. I’m fully dressed. My hands are inside of my robes, sticky with my own come.

It was just another fantasy. Another hope, another wish that you would, just for once, crave me as I so desperately crave you.


End file.
